


Better

by singingtomysoul



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingtomysoul/pseuds/singingtomysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're not the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> GOB Bluth/Tony Wonder. This has been in my head for a few days. Sheer fluff. Domesticity. Spurious character sketch headcanon. A lot of taking the comedy show seriously. Now you, too, can enjoy what these two have done to my brain!

They're not the same.

He's not sure when he starts to realize it, but it's the little things. They're curled up in bed and he's reading a book, nothing award-winning but enough to keep himself sharp. He's narrowing his eyes, trying to convince himself he doesn't need glasses, when he realizes GOB's drumming his fingers against the mattress, and his foot is making those little kicky circles. 

"You can watch that dumb reality thing you like, babe, I'm good."

"Oh. Thanks, sure."

And he knows GOB wasn't being nice about it, more passively disbelieving that reading is how Tony would want to spend the night, but it's fine because he can still finish off this chapter while snarking at whatever crap a Kardashian is doing in the background. And he and GOB can debate over which one has the better rack, and why the hell they're famous to begin with. 

They'll wind up making a vague plan to pitch some reality magic show thing to Discovery, then even more vaguely decide it's too much work, and then GOB will ask what he's reading and half-pretend to be interested. So Tony will spoon up against him to reward him, because GOB's a lot cuddlier than he is by nature, and he'll trace little patterns over GOB's hip with his fingers, and they'll end up falling asleep like that.

It's like that a lot.

They're not the same because he likes little pet names, 'Gobie' and 'babe' and affectionate versions of words like 'asshole.' GOB's not into returning the favor; Tony isn't sure if he's still self-conscious about being with a guy, or if it's just how his family didn't do the affection thing all too well. It doesn't really matter, because the little hidden grin he has whenever Tony says it, that's basically worth ten 'Gobie's as far as he's concerned.

GOB does give amazing hugs, though, and massages, and he pulls Tony up close to spoon against him all the time. It's like everything Tony teases at with a brush of his fingers, GOB does with his whole body. When they fuck, Tony treats GOB's body like an instrument, finding little hidden pleasure points and places he can get away with using his (manicured) nails. GOB is grabby and hungry, like he's experiencing Tony in greedy handfuls, trying to find the fastest way to start a fire. 

Tony can't help but be swept away, can't imagine wanting anything else.

They're different when they fight, which GOB usually starts in sighs and bombastic protests, but Tony continues in little cutting ways that keep them going around in circles. Sometimes he's tempted to lance the argument with something really pointed and hurtful, but he knows once he's done it that it's not right, that nobody's more hurt by that than GOB is. 

When he apologizes his voice is soft, but there's so much force in it, so much you-have-to-believe-me, that he knows GOB does immediately. And he believes GOB, when GOB's own apology sounds stunned, like it snuck out of him when he wasn't looking. Like they can't believe that this is who they are now, two people who care about other people - or person, anyway.

GOB's performance matches him on stage, once they find a rhythm. GOB is pyrotechnics to his smoke, exploding onto the stage in just the right way to work the crowd up, so Tony can slip in and dazzle with sheer finesse. They both peacock, had to work to not upstage each other, but even that has its place - they're constantly testing, improving, trying to outdo each other and themselves. They've stopped being lazy.

And Tony knows that part of that is how he used to get tired, weary of gimmick after gimmick, and shitty assistants, and trying not to look (feel) too old up there. He makes plans until he forgets what he's planning for, until ennui sets in. But then GOB is there, wanting things - wanting them more than anyone Tony's ever known. Drinking in even the littlest successes, constantly pushing for bigger louder brighter. GOB latches onto feelings, clings to them long past stubbornness. It's exhausting, sometimes. He needs someone to rein him in and focus him, tether him to Earth but still kiss him until he feels like he's floating. 

So Tony does.

He knows they both go to the same place in their heads sometimes - the dark, slow, quiet place, where they can't hear people around them. It's not so much anymore, now that there's someone else to talk to, but sometimes they still have to bump shoulders or brush fingertips, remind each other. 

There's this thing GOB does, though, there are these times he doesn't know how to say what he wants or how he feels, to make the pieces line up. He sputters, panics, stuck in place, and Tony's learned that touch helps there too - fingers entwined with his, or cupped lightly against his wrists. But sometimes it doesn't; sometimes he needs to just wait patiently, an anchor again, and let GOB unravel until he can find the right knot to tug at and then put it all back together again. 

Tony's not good at patient when it's for other people, but he's learning. Because sometimes an act fucks up, a review is bad, some jackass at a bar calls him a faggot, and he's angry but he doesn't even know it. It's like something's stuck there, choking him - like the old gimmick where he has to pull something out of himself, but for real this time. And then GOB's arms go around him and everything cools and settles, flickers back to a place where he can handle it.

They're not the same, and he knows GOB's realized it too, but they never stop saying it. Not just because of tradition, or because 'same' has also started to mean sappier things like 'mine', but what it really means is connected. It means matched, and tethered, it means pieces that fit together. Someone who makes you feel good about who you are, but also makes you more.

They're not the same. This is so much better than that.


End file.
